


Food for Thought

by Dalet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalet/pseuds/Dalet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I <i>love</i> Calthazar + cooking, with each other, for each other, teaching each other. It can fit any universe and any mood. Truly, the perfect genre.</p>
<p>One of my all time favourites is human!au haute cuisine snob Balthazar + cynical Cass who's just hungry already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1.

“See, you hollow out the middle here and put the dry ingredients _inside_ \- but separate - then whisk it all together, moving slowly from the outside inwards,” says Balthazar happily.

“Does it have to be that tedious?” Cass frowns.

“The result will be well worth it!” Balthazar insists.

Cass just gives him a _Look_ …

…and sloooowly pulls out his blender.

Balthazar stiffens in horror.

“You wouldn’t _dare.”_

* * *

2.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, darling, but I’ve _finally_ narrowed it down to my top four.” Balthazar sets the menus down excitedly. “Give me your choice and I’ll ring them up.”

Cass squints at the glossy covers. 

“…What are these?”

“The best bakeries in the city, naturally. Take your pick, and I’ll show you the most finely crafted cake you’ve ever seen in your life!”

“Balthazar, I am _not_ ordering a cake from a shop whose name I can’t even decipher. This looks like some kind of magic spell.”

“It’s just French. _Boulangerie–_ “

“Enough of your hocus-pocus and show me a real bakery.”

* * *

3.

Cass brings a sick Balthazar some soup. Balthazar sniffs it delicately.

“Ah, a heady, full-bodied Lipton’s Instant. 2014, if I’m not mistaken. Good year, a very good year.”

“It’s midnight, Balthazar. Your favourite delis are closed.”

* * *

4.

“Now, you need to keep a bit of an eye on it as it bakes. Just a quick peek in the oven every five minutes or so, then every two minutes once the top starts to darken. You’ll know it’s done when you’ve got that lovely, even brown coating.”

“Thanks. And how long do I microwave it for?”

He can hear Balthazar shudder on the other end of the phone.

* * *

5.

“All right, how about we start with the vegetables?”

“No.”

“No…vegetables?”

“No cooking,” Cass says tiredly. “I changed my mind. I just want a burger.”

“Ah, certainly. Just relax, then, and I’ll–”

“I’m _ordering_ burgers, Balthazar. _Real_ burgers. Are you in or out?”

“…ah. Right.” Balthazar waves his hands. “I’m in, I’m in, of course. You call and I’ll pick them up.”

“Why? Let’s just have them delivered.”

“Cassie, _please,_ I need to be involved somehow, or it’s bad for my heart.”

* * *

No matter what, of course, Balthazar eats it all (even the burgers).

“Acceptable?” Cass can’t help but smirk a little proudly.

“Well, I’ll _live._ ” Balthazar answers lovingly.


	2. Chapter 2

Balthazar arrives to help bake cupcakes for Hannah’s birthday, sees Cass with a big bowl of icing already whipped up.

“You started without me!” he mock chides.

And Cass is just like

 

  


as though any explanation were needed.


	3. Chapter 2.2

Later that night, Cass plunks himself down with his laptop like,

“If you can make a mug cupcake in the microwave, there must be a way to bake a real tray.”

Balthazar chuckles. “If you can manage it, you’ll be famous.”

Then he wakes up at like 4am to a cold bed and the colder glare of the laptop screen. He just sort of blinks, stunned.

“Are you _still_ on the microwave cupcake tray?”

“Yes.”

“…Cassie, it’s been _eight hours.”_

“I know so much about microwaves now,” Cass murmurs blearily. “I’m about to crack the secret, I _know_ it.”

Balthazar gapes at him.

“But it doesn’t take this long to BAKE a tray of cupcakes!” he cries.

“It’s that thing…” Cass explains, loosely waving one hand. “An investment towards future time saved.”

Balthazar groans and burrows himself about 50,000 feet into the mattress, just trying to get back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 3

One day, after Balthazar has been making dinner for Cass & Hannah for a while, they start joking about having a pizza party and Balthazar’s like, “Sounds like fun! I’ll get started~”

And they’re like “No, no, a pizza party is a time for greasy takeout, your food is just too _good."  
_

So Balthazar humphs and pouts a little but then he’s like, “No wait, life is all _about_ trying new things. I’m going to do this, I’m going to make you the BEST terrible, greasy pizza you’ve _ever_ had!”

First, he interviews them both about what exactly _makes_ the best terrible, greasy pizza.

Hannah’s like, “When it all runs down your chin with every bite, and also stuffed crusts.”

Cass’ like, “I remember this pizza place when I was little where the sauce was always gray instead of red, and I never figured it out but it was _delicious.”_

Balthazar just nods and takes it all down carefully in his fancy notebook.

Then they’re off to the supermarket to buy ingredients, touring the freezer section so Balthazar can make a “character study” of the frozen pizzas and ask deep, searching questions like, “What would you say is the _essence_ of Delissio?”

Back home in the kitchen, Cass & Hannah cheer him on as Balthazar tries desperately to subdue his instincts. “MORE PLEBEIAN”, they yell every time he reaches for too-fancy cheese.

(They’re filming all of this, of course.)

Finally, when it’s in the oven, Balthazar looks so pleased like, “This is going to be _excellent._ Here, go set the table,” and Cass & Hannah are like, “what table?”

Cause it’s not a  _real_ pizza party unless you’re sprawled out in the living room with a terrible movie for entertainment.


	5. Chapter 4

Cass gets a frantic text from Balthazar to pick up some ingredients, but when he gets home, Balthazar isn’t even in the kitchen; he’s panicking on the study floor, surrounded by scattered pages of recipes.

Turns out he was asked, and agreed, to cook for a small event for someone really important at work or something, but he doesn’t even know _what,_ and without knowing what, he doesn’t know how long it will take, when he should start, what he should start _with,_ what order, what what what

Cass feels terrible, but he doesn’t know how he can help. He doubts there’s anything he can _do,_ in this situation, but he never feels like he knows what to _say_ either.

He wanders into the study at one point and just says, “You make a sandwich that tastes like a vacation,”

and Balthazar stares at him for a moment, harried but touched. “…thank you, Cassie,”

except Cass wasn’t finished; the rest of his reassurances just got lost halfway to his mouth, so he frowns and wanders back out.

By mid-evening, the panic party has at least moved to the kitchen, Balthazar having apparently decided on a recipe. He doesn’t seem any happier for it, though. 

Cass follows him in, this time with his shoulders squared because he _knows_ what he’s going to say.

“Let _me_ do it,” he insists.

Balthazar chuckles tiredly. “‘A pain shared is pain halved,’ was it?” Then he sighs into his hands, leaning on the counter. “Trust me, you want no part in this misery.”

“Too late,” Cass points out. “But, look, you _can’t_ do it right now. This isn’t how you cook.”

“I haven’t even gotten to the cooking yet,” Balthazar groans.

“Because you _can’t_ , not like… _this,”_ he gestures sharply. Balthazar asks what he means, so Cass goes on.

“When was the last time you even cooked from a _recipe_? Not since _I’ve_ known you. You start from memory, and then the rest is equal parts imagination, innovation, your mood that day, and sarcasm.”

“I see what you’re getting at; I’m too _focused._ You’re right, Cass, it’s _not_ like me,” Balthazar nods, then sighs deeply. “But I can’t help it. If I get this _wrong-_ ”

“I know,” says Cass, “that’s why I’m suggesting you try to focus _differently,_ like when you’re teaching me. When _I’m_ cooking, all of a sudden you have two dozen bees up your ass about _every last detail-”_

“I have bees where?”

“-but, like…” Cass smiles fondly, “in a _good_ way. It’s fun. I like it.”

As exhausted as he is, Balthazar can’t help laughing. Cass circles the counter and touches his arm.

“You are _not_ going to screw this up,” says Cass, very earnestly. “ _I’ll_ screw it up, and then _you_ just have to fix it, like you always do.”

Balthazar finally smiles. “Thanks, Cassie.”


End file.
